


Ravished by the Ravager

by cinderellasfella



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Marathon Sex, Naked Cuddling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 11:19:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16785940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderellasfella/pseuds/cinderellasfella
Summary: Break into the Asgardian treasury vault, he’d told himself. It’ll be an adventure, he’d told himself. A quick in and out job, he’d told himself (and oh, how he has to laugh at that wording now).(Or, how the King of Asgard teaches the infamous Star Lord a thing or two about Asgardians and their legendary sexual stamina)





	Ravished by the Ravager

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PoorWendy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoorWendy/gifts).



> So, it must be noted that this fic wouldn't have come to pass without THIS glorious post (https://starprince-sparkles.tumblr.com/post/177778069825/ive-heard-plenty), courtesy of PoorWendy and their stellar Thorquill content. Give their stuff some love if you can!
> 
> A word of warning, canon is cherry picked like there's no tomorrow to make up this AU.

Break into the Asgardian treasury vault, he’d told himself. It’ll be an adventure, he’d told himself. A quick in and out job, he’d told himself (and oh, how he has to laugh at that wording now).

"Come on, fuck me like you mean it!"

Peter would respond in kind, honest to God he would - sex is nothing without a little dirty talk - but quite frankly, it’s a miracle he has enough higher brain function left to keep his hips pumping into that amazing ass. Let alone think up something hot to say on the spot. It can wait a moment or two - it's not like they're going anywhere, he thinks to himself ruefully at the latest cry of pleasure.

There must be some traces of Celestial left in him after all. ‘Cause Peter loves sex, like ... a _lot._ And he’s always prided himself on being a pretty good fuck - customer satisfaction and all that. But he’s assuming it’s not normal to have orgasmed enough times that he can almost feel the intensity of every spurt in his _teeth_ by now, and yet still be anywhere near ready for each new round without his brain being reduced to mush.

His lover, on the other hand, finally seems to be approaching his breaking point, if the panting and look of wanton desperation in his eyes is anything to go by. Which is saying something pretty impressive, considering Thor hasn’t spilled a single drop of come all night. 

See, one side effect (benefit?) of Asgardians being damn near immortal is that everything takes forever with them. Which apparently extends to their stamina in the sack. Every bar in the galaxy always has some drunken jackass with a story about their friend of a friend who was left a drooling vegetable after trying to keep up with a hookup from Asgard. A fact that had been very much on Peter’s mind at the sight of Asgard’s king smirking down from his throne, his voice dropping to a honeyed purr as he’d suggested they discuss the matter of punishment in his private quarters.

Now, Peter’s not one to shy away from a challenge, much less one in the bedroom - guy who slept with an A’askavariian, remember? Even before Yondu had picked him up, he’d had a definite inkling that he found boys just as pretty as girls; hopping between star systems and getting drunk with aliens of every shape and size had quickly demolished any and all remaining limits about who got him hard. 

But still, it’s nice to shack up with somebody at least vaguely humanoid every now and then. And God knows the guy isn’t half bad to look at; piercing blue eyes, muscles like living Tequarcilath marble, and _just_ enough distance between his knees to imply that what’s swinging down there needs quite a bit of breathing room. So what if it takes the guy a little longer to come than everybody else? Just means more time for the two of them to have some fun. All in all, Peter had thought he’d earned the little swagger in his step as he’d followed the king out of the throne room.

It wasn’t until he was bent almost double over the side of an enormous bath and spiralling down from his third orgasm, all while Thor continued to pound him relentlessly from behind, showing no signs that he was anywhere near his _first_ climax, that he started to realise that maybe he was a little in over his head.

That was three hours ago.

"Harder, _harder_!" Thor all but snarls, even as his eyes roll back in his head at an upward stroke. The sight of Asgard’s king sprawled out on his back across his desk, mouth gaping open in a lewd O, would have been enough to make a stronger man then Peter come on the spot. Then again, considering the amount of times he’s painted both his and Thor’s skin with his come without dropping dead from exhaustion, he’s not entirely sure this hypothetical stronger man _exists._

"As you command, Your Majesty," Peter grunts out, releasing one of Thor’s ankles and latching none too gently to a dark, rosy nipple. It apparently does the trick, if the way his toes keep scrunching up and starfishing out with every roll of the nub is any indicator. "You comfortable there? Enjoying life as a little slut?"

" _Very,"_ Thor manages to chuckle around a particularly hard thrust to his prostate. His hands are firmly clutched to the edge of the desk, just to keep Peter from fucking him right along the surface, but he lets go just long enough to sweep his sweat-soaked locks back out of his eyes. Peter’s surprised to find he misses the more vulnerable look. "I might have to consider extending your punishment ... to keep you around ..." 

"Why, Your _Majesty_ ," Peter murmurs in mock outrage, bracing himself with one hand next to Thor’s head as he leans forward. The blissful moan Thor lets out at the change in angle to the assault his prostate is music to his ears. A sound that only escalates as Peter firmly takes his throbbing cock in hand and starts stroking in counterpoint to his pistoning hips. 

"That hardly sounds fair, does it?" he continues in playful admonishment. "Here I am, doing my best to make amends after our little misunderstanding," and he takes great pleasure at the whitening of Thor’s knuckles on the desk’s edge as he grinds his hips in a slow circle, "and apparently _you_ just wanna keep me chained to your throne in rags!"

"Awfully bold of you to assume I’d give you the rags," Thor smirks, even as his panting grows more pronounced, and Peter can’t suppress the shiver that runs through him at that rumbling tone of authority. Even writhing on another man’s cock, it’s easy to see how Thor commands such respect across the galaxy. "It’d be an awful shame, not to ... to let everyone see how _pretty_ every inch of my little pet is as I use him ... wouldn’t you say?"

" _Fuck_ , yeah!" Peter groans in savage appreciation. "You gonna fuck my face, let everyone see me choking on this cock?" There’s an eager whine in response as Peter gently circles the head, worrying the slit to coat the pad of his thumb with a generous dose of precum. "Teach everybody what happens when you fuck around with the king."

"Or maybe," and there’s a wicked glint to Thor’s eye, even through the haze of lust, "you could take charge, hmm? All I’d have to do is get down on all fours, right in front of the throne ... and you’d ... mount me like a rutting beast for ... for _everyone_ to see."

 _God_ , he’s in love. He might just have to seriously consider getting a number or something. _Anything_ for a repeat performance.

" _Yeah_ , you’d like that, baby? Big strong alpha king like you, begging to have your hole filled in front of everyone?" He leans in closer still, his free hand curling possessively around the back of Thor’s neck, ‘til they’re practically sharing the same air. "Letting everybody see you’re mine?" he whispers with a voice rough as broken glass, feeling white hot pressure coiling like a spring in his abdomen; he’s not gonna last much longer. 

Thor practically whimpers at the idea, eyes glazing over as Peter fills his every sense, inside and out, and revels in every moment of it. "Yours, yours, _please_ , I - I can’t ..." Words seem to fail Thor as finally, _finally_ , Peter detects that same frantic edge he’s heard time and again in his own voice throughout the night. "I’m gonna come, I’m-"

He acts by pure instinct, crushing his lips to Thor’s in a frantic, open-mouthed kiss even as he mercilessly fucks him through the cresting point. Feels him tremble and unravel in his arms as Peter shoots into him once, twice, three times, swallowing every muffled cry of bliss with a fiendish glee. Lost in his own ecstasy, Thor spurts again and again all over Peter’s fist, his own chest, ropes of come burning like a brand on their skin.

Still running on pure adrenaline, it takes a few moments for Peter’s hips to still their rhythm. Thor’s hole spasms and clenches around his shaft like a velvety fist as they ride out the aftershocks. Then all at once, the past few hours finally catch up, barely leaving him enough strength for a groan of relief before he flops down on Thor’s still-heaving chest, heedless of their release cooling between them. Thor himself locks those tree trunk legs more securely around his waist as Peter reluctantly pulls out of the still inviting grip of his ass, hands rubbing up and down his back to complete the cocoon. It feels nice, Peter has to admit. Safe.

It’s only as they lie there, basking in the afterglow, that Peter realises they’d never kissed before that final moment of madness. Oh, they’d done plenty to one another throughout the night; Peter’s entire body is a continuous thrum of pleasant aching, a testimony of all that plenty they got up to. And yet, kissing had never entered the equation; not until the moment Thor had needed soothing, caring for. 

A huff of air escapes Peter’s nose as he laughs to himself. He’d fucked himself to delirium on a vibrating double-ended dildo with this guy taking the other end, watched his fist disappear into his fluttering hole, and overall is pretty sure that sex with anybody else has been forever ruined. And somehow, he manages to overthink a simple kiss into being the most intimate act of the night. Go figure.

Caught up in these ruminations, it takes a second or two for his brain to catch up when he hears Thor murmur something half to himself. "Whazzat?" he slurs, words muffled from where his face is mashed into Thor’s (very comfortable) pecs.

After a few moments of silence, curiosity gets the better of him. Grunting at the exertion, he props himself up on his elbows to be greeted by a man clearly wishing he could swallow his tongue. Compared the self-assured king he’d first met, Thor’s expression of flustered consternation seems to belong to a completely different person. Somebody who isn't hiding the world's weight on his shoulders.

But finally, Thor sighs in exasperation and looks him square in the eye, even as he turns an endearing shade of brick red. "You can stay the night, you know. If you like," he says, all in a great rush, like he’s afraid his nerve will vanish again. And for all that Peter half wants to believe it’s in jest, just a continuation of their earlier fantasy, there’s an intent look to Thor’s eyes that tells him this is deadly serious.

Peter blinks once. Twice. Feels the silence stretching out, knows his mouth is gaping slightly, but ... well, how the hell are you _supposed_ to respond to an invitation like this? From a king, no less? There’s a world of difference between sleeping together and _sleeping together._ And for all his lack of experience on that latter path, he knows exactly where it can lead.

"I mean ... it’s a big bed." Thor’s gaze remains steady despite the blush staining his cheeks, his fingers never stilling as they rub a leisurely figure of eight into Peter’s side. "And Asgard could always use a man of your ... many talents." There’s a salacious edge to the smile that follows, sure, but it’s not without a glimmer of hopeful sincerity.

It’s tempting, he won’t lie. There’s the thought of all the other things he could do to that body, the things it could do to him. Plus it’d be nice to actually have somewhere permanent to crash every now and then. A home base, of sorts. The thing is, he’s never been one for attachments. And if he goes to bed with this guy, he could be further in over his head than ever before by morning. 

But ... he’s _really_ fuckin’ tired. And try as he might, Peter finds he doesn’t want to say no to that smile.

So even though he never gives an answer, he sticks around long enough to grab a damp rag from the bathroom and wipe them both down, the two of them sharing a rueful laugh as he probes around their still-tender asses.

And for Thor to surprise him with another kiss as he’s pulled upright off his back, humming in soft, sated appreciation at the fingers that tangle in his hair

And to be led back to that impossibly vast bed, soft enough that he swears it’ll swallow him up any minute, and let himself be wrapped up in warm furs and warmer arms. To press sleepy kisses along the planes of Thor’s chest, and feel his ears burning in a blush when Thor reciprocates by nuzzling into his hair.

"You can arrange breakfast," he mumbles drowsily as he drops off to Thor’s answering laugh, soft and low as distant thunder. The kind you could easily learn to love hearing.

Eh. He’ll deal with those thoughts in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading (and for putting up with the clunkiness of my attempts at smut), reviews will be deeply appreciated!
> 
> Also, forgive for the cheesy romance novel title, i couldn't help myself.


End file.
